A Brother's Betrayal
by CoffeeRanger
Summary: (Based on JustValiant1717's King and Lionheart) I swore to Peter I wouldn't take another tesserae. Swore on our father's grave. If I break that oath – I don't even want to think of what Peter might do to me. But what else can I do?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! I know I should be updating** ** _A Brother's Sorrow,_** **but I have been swamped with school and Real Life this week and have no chance to write Lucy's POV. I had started this story last week, but wasn't going to post it until after I was done with ABS; however, Valiant said she couldn't wait to read it, and so I thought I'd publish it a little bit early.**

 **Once again, this story (which will be multi-chaptered) is based off of JustValiant1717's fic** ** _King and Lionheart_** **. It seems every time I go to re-read a part of that story, I'm struck by inspiration for yet another story. Val has been gracious enough to allow me freedom to write each one, for which I thank her profusely.**

 **If you all haven't read her fic, you definitely should. She is absolutely amazing and has such a way of spinning words that sucks you right into the story without you realizing it. The way she writes the Pevensies' relationships is so poignant. My heart hurts with each new chapter she writes. She has become one of my favorite Narnia writers and I promise you will not be disappointed by what you read of her work.**

 **Achem… Okay, now that I'm done gushing. This fic is a look into the happenings in and around the time when Edmund took that extra tesserae that caused Peter to not talk to him for a year. Val wrote both boys with such hurt from the incident, as well as sorrow and guilt, that I wanted to explore just what had happened a bit more.**

 **So far, this story is shaping up to be all in Edmund's POV, but Peter has been asking quite insistently for his turn. So, his POV might show up in a later chapter. If you'd like to lend strength to his cause, please let me know in the comments, and I will definitely take a greater look into writing more from our dear Pete's POV as well. ;^)**

 **Disclaimer… I wish I did own it, but sadly I don't. I have to content myself with reading amazing fanfictions as well as the books over and over again and watching the movies. *Sigh***

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

"I don't want you to worry about it. We have enough. We'll make due."

The words greet me as I slip into the living room, closing the front door behind me. They're coming from upstairs in our room. I frown, let my school bag drop to the floor, and creep up the stairs on tiptoe.

"We're… we're always running out by now." Peter's hoarse whisper answers her.

I wince. Peter had caught a cold early last week, and it had turned to influenza three days ago. It's all but taken his voice from him. Mum's kept him bedridden, bundled in all the extra clothes and blankets we possess in an effort to keep him warm. We've even lit the stove early to try and help. We don't usually light it until after the first few snowfalls so we can save the cost of fuel.

"I've taken care of it." Mum is being insistent.

I reach the top of the stairs and peer over the landing into Peter's and my bedroom. Peter is lying in his bed, propped up on pillows. His face is flushed and sweaty with fever, his eyes are bright, and his lips are chapped and bleeding. All that coupled with the gaunt expression that has entered his eyes… He looks nothing like Peter. Mum is sitting on the bed beside him, a bowl of something that steams in her hand. It's probably soup because she's lifting a spoon to his lips even as I watch.

The sight of Mum having to feed Peter sends a jolt of fear through my soul. Never has Peter been too weak to help himself. He's the protector and provider. He is who I run to with my problems, who I look to for guidance. The possibility of losing him at the Reaping each year is bad enough; I can't stand to see that possibility again, here in our own home.

 _Aslan, please help him._ I pray to the being my father would tell me stories of late at night when I was sick. I'm not sure who Aslan is, but Dad said that He watches over us and keeps us safe. Peter doesn't like it when I talk about Aslan – or Dad – but I've always found comfort in talking to Him. Makes Dad seem not so far off, and I'm willing to try anything at this moment. Peter looks like he's at death's door.

"I just want you to concentrate on getting better, all right?" Mum continues after Peter swallows the bite she just gave him. "Your brother has been very worried about you. It's getting harder and harder to keep him out of here. He needs you to keep an eye on him."

"I know." Peter responds. "I'm doing everything I can, Mum. I'm sorry that I'm not able to help." He presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a cough. "Just one more day, and I'll go back to work. I promise. And I'll go see about getting another tesserae. We'll make it through to next month."

"No, Peter." Mum's tone is firm. "You will stay and rest until this flu is completely gone. You will make yourself worse by trying to do too much too soon. I told you that when you had the cold; it's doubly true now that you have the flu. And you will not be getting another tesserae. You know how I feel about either one of you boys doing that. I'll see if I can get some more work. We'll make it. We always do."

Peter looks ready to argue, but Mum shakes her head, "No, Peter. No arguments. Please." She reaches up and brushes Peter's bangs from off his forehead. "Forget about this and try to rest. Your brother will be home shortly. I want to be able to tell him you're doing better."

Mum moves to stand up, and I rush down the stairs skipping over the creaky steps. I'm in the front entry by the time she's reached the top step. I open the front door and slam it shut.

"Edmund, is that you?" Mum calls. The stairs creak as she walks down them.

"Yes, Mum." I step into the living room in time to wrap my arm around her waist and give her a hug and a kiss. "Love you. How's Peter?"

She kisses me back, "I love you too. Peter's fine. Feeling a bit weaker today, but his fever's down. He should be better by the end of the week. He sends his love."

The smile she gives me is tight around the edges, and I can see the worry hidden in her eyes. "Can't I see him?" I beg. I've been barred from Peter's presence ever since he fell sick. Neither he nor Mum wanted to risk me catching whatever it is he has. Not with my lungs being what they are. I've been sleeping with Mum in her room.

"You know the answer to that. Now, go get your homework done. I have some work left to do, but then I'll come in and start making dinner. There's a slice of bread on the counter for you."

My shoulders slump, but I nod my head, "Yes, Ma'am. Thanks for setting my snack out."

Mum lifts my chin so that she's looking into my eyes, "He's getting better, Edmund. I promise you. Don't worry about him."

"He's my brother. I have to worry." I protest. "If I don't, there won't be anyone to keep him out of trouble."

Mum chuckles and smooths my hair back from my forehead, "All right then, don't worry as much. I'll be in the back if you need anything."

She moves off towards the door leading to the back room where she's set up her laundry washing business. The work is hard and long, but it's been the only thing she's been able to find.

I hate it. Hate the long hours it forces her to keep. Hate the way it stoops her shoulders and rubs her hands raw. Hate the way it keeps her out in the cold, because no matter what repairs Peter and I make on that back room, it still manages to let the cold air in.

I grab my book bag from the front entry and head into the kitchen. Instead of sitting down and doing my work, however, I take stock. Peter and Mum usually worry about how much food is in the house, but I'm not ignorant of how little we actually have.

There's a loaf and a half of bread in the cupboards and a dozen potatoes in the bin along with onions and a few carrots. No fruit. Even though it's the end of autumn and the harvests have come in, fruit is still too expensive to have more than as a treat on one of our birthdays. There's some smoked meat left in the attic, but not much. Peter and I haven't been hunting for almost two weeks between taking a break and him getting sick.

We usually have more than this, but it's close to the end of the month. Peter was right. Usually by this time, he and I are augmenting most of our diet with meat and greens we find in the woods. I chew on my bottom lip as fear starts to build in me.

Mum had looked so tired when she came down. Her eyes were dim, and there were new wrinkles lines between her eyes. Dark bags sat underneath her eyes, and she has lost a lot of weight. There is no way she will be able to take on more work and still keep going. It isn't fair to expect her to. She already does too much.

 _So_ do _something about it._ A voice inside me says harshly. _Don't ask. You know she won't let you do anything anyway. Just do it. Peter's sick and so now it's your responsibility to care for her – and him._

I clench my jaw. There are two options open to me. I can either go hunting by myself… or I can go take a tesserae.

My stomach clenches at the consequences of both. I've never gone hunting alone. It wouldn't be such a big deal if it were summer, but it's the middle of autumn. If I were to have a problem with my lungs or an accident, there would be no one to help me. But the other option…

I swore to Peter I wouldn't take another tesserae. Swore on our father's grave. If I break that oath – I don't even want to _think_ of what Peter might do to me. But what else can I do?

I groan, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table, and begin to pick at a splinter. I keep waiting to hear Peter tell me to stop with his usual underlying current of annoyance or feel his hands bat mine away from the offending sliver. But they don't come.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper to no one.

 _"_ _Be strong, Dear Heart."_ A deep whisper sounds in the room.

I jump and look around, searching for the source of the voice, but no one is present. I sit still for a few minutes more, waiting to see if whoever – whatever – that was will occur again. It doesn't. I swallow thickly, struggling to put – whatever that was – behind me.

I square my shoulders, my thoughts turning back to the problem at hand. Mum is right. We are okay for right now. We have some money saved up, so if things get desperate we can use that. And I can help Mum with her laundry – without her knowing it of course – but I can do some while she is out making deliveries or while she is sleeping. It's what Peter would do, and with him not available to do it, the responsibility falls on me.

I don't mind. I'm grateful for the opportunity. Peter and Mum don't let me do too much around the house. Not because they don't think I can, but because I get sick too easily. They're scared – and if I admit it I'm scared – that one time I'll catch something I won't be able to shake and then it'll be my turn to take that last walk into the woods.

 _You'll be all right_ I tell myself, getting up to get my snack. I have to be. Mum and Peter need me right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone. Thank you all for such wonderful feedback on chapter one. I'm glad you all liked it. :D I hope you like this chapter just as much. I'm always open for suggestions/comments, so if there's something you'd like to see, please tell me and I will do my best to work it in. Once again, please excuse grammatical mistakes; somehow, I always seem to miss one or two no matter the number of read-throughs I do. :/**

 ** _TheOpenDoor07_** **: Thank you so much for your kind words! I was blushing so hard when I read your review – especially when you said you would buy this if it were in print.**

 **I don't normally read cross-over either, especially not for Narnia; however, I have been more than glad that I started** ** _King and Lionheart_** **. If you like this fic, it is all because Valiant has set the stage. She developed the characters this way; I'm simply playing in her sandbox. If you haven't already, I definitely recommend that you go and check her fic out. I don't think you'll be disappointed. ;)**

 **Sorry about the confusion for the house; I was thinking that it might seem a bit big and it still might after my explanation, but I didn't want to change it. The way I see the house is more like how one-room prairie houses were in the US back in the 1800s. One room down below and then a staircase leading up to the second floor. So, the "front entry" part was just a section that they've designated as the front entry. Same with the kitchen and living room sections you'll see in this chapter. And then upstairs, the "landing" is just a small section of flooring in front of both bedrooms. One (the boys') is straight on, so that it is over the "back room" section of the house, and then their parents' room is to the right. So, all in all, I see it as a relatively small house; Helen's just done her best to make it seem like more for the boys. Does that help to clear things up?**

 **Peter not wanting Aslan as a part of their lives is more driven by the world they're living in than a character thing. The way Val and I have made it, is that the Capitol does not like those who profess faith in Aslan. They arrest/making life difficult/kill those they find worshipping/following Him. So, it's not that Peter doesn't want Aslan in their lives (in many chapters of Val's fic, Aslan talks to Peter and Peter prays to Him not quite knowing it), it's that he's scared for Edmund if someone were to find out.**

 **Thank you once again for taking the time to read and to leave a note with your thoughts! I really appreciate the encouragement.**

 ** _WriterCat06_** **: What a great user name! Do you have Plot Cats instead of Plot Bunnies? Thank you so much for your kind note. I hope you like this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: See chapter one, please, since I have piano to go practice and no time to write a new one. ;)**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

My plan works for a few days. I go to bed at my usual time and doze with one ear open until I hear Mum come to bed. I never knew until now how late she stays up. I go to bed at 9 and she doesn't climb up the stairs – her steps so slow and heavy – until almost 4 hours later. My heart clenches as I slowly begin to realize just what Peter and Mum protect me from, what they have kept me from seeing. I vow to start being more of a help. I'm not sure how, but with Aslan's help, I'm going to try.

Mum sinks into the bed as if she no longer has the strength to keep herself upright. It is only a few minutes until I hear her breaths deepen as she slips into sleep. I wait about a half-hour before slowly easing out of the bed. She doesn't move at all.

It's hard work – harder than I thought. My amazement at my mum increases each evening. The buckets of water are heavy, and it takes four to fill the washtub. I can't use hot water. The fire is banked at night, and we can't afford to use the extra fuel, so I do the best I can with cold water and soap.

I work for an hour or two each night. By the end of the second day, my hands are dry and cracked from the harsh soaps and the cold water. My arms ache from the heavy lifting and my fingers feel frozen in the curled position I have to use to scrub the clothes. It's harder to get out of bed in the morning. My eyes feel like anvils when Mum wakes me up, but it's worth it.

I have to be careful not to do too much. Mum always has laundry up on the lines in the living room area. Thankfully, by the time I get downstairs, some of them are dry and by the time I finish washing another bit, more are dry. I switch out the dry clothes, folding them and putting them with the finished articles, before hanging the articles I just washed. I wish I could do more, but if I do too much, Mum will find out and then she'll make me stop.

Each morning as I eat my breakfast, I make sure to keep my unused hand tucked underneath the table where Mum can't see it. And I try to keep them out of sight as much as possible. I don't think that I'm fooling her – it's hard to keep anything a secret from Mum; somehow, she always _knows_ – but I try anyway.

With the extra clothes Mum and I are able to get washed, we're able to buy a few extra staples at the market at week's end. We even have enough to buy an apple to try and tempt Peter's appetite. Mum bakes it in the coals of the fire with some nutmeg Dad bought her long ago for their anniversary.

Mum takes it up to Peter that night, and when she comes down, she has no leftovers and there's a big smile on her face. It's the first time Peter's eaten everything she's brought up to him. The smell of the apple lingers for the next few days.

Then, Peter takes a turn for the worse. The fever that has been going away comes back and comes back worse. Peter falls into delirium. Nothing Mum tries, from soothing herbs to cold water, can bring him out of it.

She allows me into Peter's room then. That scares me more than anything, because I know the only reason she would ever allow that is if Peter is – if there's a chance he won't make it.

I stay close by Peter, holding his hand with both my own. It's gotten so thin. I can see his veins in the back, and his skin is so white it almost matches my own. His harsh breathing fills the small bedroom sounding too much like my own battles each winter.

"Is he going to die?" I ask Mum after the second day of this. When she doesn't answer, I look up. "Is Peter going to die?"

She clenches her jaws, "I don't know, Edmund. Nothing I'm doing is helping. It's… it's in Aslan's –" She shakes her head sharply as if to dislodge the thought. "It's out of our hands." She finishes.

"What about the apothecary? Couldn't she help?" I question. "We've got enough money, right? With the extra you've been able to get? Can't we ask her for help?"

Mum sighs, "I don't know, Edmund. The medicines she carries are expensive."

"It doesn't hurt to ask. Please. Let me go ask."

Mum doesn't say anything, simply looks down at Peter. His head is thrown back, his mouth wide as he pants in an effort to get as much air into his starved lungs as possible. The fever-flush that had covered his cheeks just 5 days prior has now spread from his face to his chest. His eyes flicker softly beneath his lids and every so often a pained sound escapes his throat.

Finally, she nods, "Go, Edmund. Quickly."

I don't need to hear her a second time. I'm up and out of the room before the last word finishes, racing as quickly as I can down the stairs. I barely remember to put on my coat. Only the knowledge that Mum doesn't need both of us sick stops me long enough to grab it. I wrestle it on while running towards the village.

Lucy and Susan's house is on the outskirts of town. It's a bit larger than our house with a garden in the back for herbs and spices. Nice curtains cover the windows, but despite the outward appearance, I know that they suffer almost as much as the rest of us. There are no elites in District 12.

When I reach the front door, I'm panting for breath and iron bands feel like they're squeezing the life out of my chest. I struggle to control my breathing and pound on the door.

 _Please let them be here. Please let us have enough._

It's Susan who opens the door. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she quickly beckons me inside.

"It's Peter." I gasp around breaths. "He's dreadful sick. Mum's scared he's going to die. Is your mum here? We need her. We'll pay anything. _Please_."

"Oh, my word! Yes. Hold on. She's just in the kitchen. Come on!" Susan exclaims. "Mum!" She leads the way through a hallway into a small kitchen. A tall, brown haired woman stands before the stove stirring a pot of what smells like a flower field.

"Mum, you're needed at the Leonidas house. Peter's sick."

The woman turns, revealing eyes that look exactly like Lucy's but are set in Susan's graceful face. She calmly sets the spoon she is holding down, gesturing for Susan to take over. "Keep stirring until it thickens up. Then take it off the stove and cover it with a cloth. I'll take care of it when I get back. You are Peter's brother?" This last question is directed at me, and I nod. "Good. Follow me. Quickly."

I do as requested, following her through the kitchen into a big front room. There are tables and shelves everywhere. Many are filled with large glass bottles filled with multicolored liquids or pills. Herbs hang from the rafters and a large fireplace is situated in the wall. A cot takes up the corner next to the fireplace.

"What are Peter's symptoms?" Mrs. Pevensie asks me as she pulls a large basket from underneath one of the tables.

"Um.. Fever – a high fever. Nothing we've done has any effect on it. Coughing. Difficulty breathing. It sounds like his lungs are filling. Vomiting – he can't keep anything down. Delirium. Loss of appetite – that was before this relapse though." I wrack my brain to try and think of anything else. "I think that's it, but I don't really know. Mum's kept us apart until just recently. She thought Peter was getting better two days ago; then he just suddenly got worse." Tears sting my eyes as I remember what Peter looked like when I left him. "Mum's tried _everything_. Can you help him, please?" I feel the tears slip from my eyes, but don't try and stop them. "He's all we have. Mum and me. We can't lose him."

Mrs. Pevensie stops what she is doing and comes to stand in front of me. She places her hands on my shoulders and looks directly into my eyes. "I don't know if I will be able to help your brother, Edmund. But I promise, I will do everything I can."

I nod, and she goes back to gathering her supplies. Soon, we are back out in the cold night rushing home. I pray the entire way that we will be on time, that she will be able to help Peter.

When we get home, I lead her up to our room. Mum's just finishing laying a cooling cloth on Peter's forehead. He doesn't look any worse than when I left, but he doesn't look any better.

Mum moves from Peter's side as Mrs. Pevensie walks in, "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I don't know what else to do. I've tried all the regular treatments, but the fever is still holding on."

Susan's mum sits down in the chair Mum just vacated. Setting her basket on the ground next to her, she leans forward and places a hand to Peter's cheek. Her lips purse as she moves her hand from his cheek to his chest.

Mum and I watch as she completes her examination. I'm biting my lip so hard it feels as if I'm going to punch a hole through it. She has to be able to help Peter. She just has to.

Mrs. Pevensie finally finishes her examination and sits back in the chair.

"Can you help him?" Mum asks softly. Her arms are crossed over her chest as if she is hugging herself.

Mrs. Pevensie nods, "Yes. Unfortunately, the type of flu he has has progressed to such a stage that he needs medications. Normal herbal remedies won't help."

Mum pales, and I bite down so hard on my lip I taste blood. Medication means the Capitol, and that means money we might not have.

"And if he doesn't get the medication?"

"He will die." There is no condemnation in Mrs. Pevensie's answer. She knows what buying medication, any medication, means for all the families here in our District. While all parents want to see their children get better, life has necessitated that they weigh all the option and pick the one that ensures the survival of the most people. "It might take a while, but he will eventually grow so weak his body will give up."

I am grateful that Peter is unconscious for this conversation. If he were awake, he'd be telling Mum not to waste the money, to not worry, that he will get better. Even if his body was betraying him, sending him closer and closer to the grave, he would be doing everything in his power to make sure that we were safe, that we didn't suffer because of him.

"How much will they cost?"

Mrs. Pevensie winces, "Not as much as they do in the Capitol. The strain I have is not as powerful as their medications. It will cure him, but it will take time and rest as well." She names a figure that encompasses almost all of the money we have been able to save this year.

Mum sucks in a deep breath and her gaze flickers to Peter. After a few moments of tense silence, she nods. "We will take it. Edmund, can you go get Mrs. Pevensie her money?"

"Yes, Mum."

I run out of the room, mind racing. I pray that this medication will be able to help him. We need Peter – I need Peter. I can't imagine living without him.

I race into Mum's room, falling to my knees and reaching under her bed. My fingers brush the bag we keep the money in, and I pull it towards me. Keeping a tight hold, I head back to Peter's and my room.

Mrs. Pevensie is packing up her bag; there is a new plastic bottle on Peter's bedstead full of pills. I hand Mum the money bag, and she pulls out what we owe Mrs. Pevensie. The bag is horribly limp when she hands it back to me.

I can't help the stab of fear that floods my body. Taxes are coming up next month, and we still need to purchase food. Even with Mum and I both working as hard as we can, I don't know if there will be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. I've been fighting with Plot Bunnies for the past two weeks and just found out a few days ago that I'm going to need surgery on my dominant hand. :/ Through God's grace, I will be able to continue writing, but from here on out, it might take me longer to get chapters written/published.**

 **This chapter is our first glimpse into dear Peter's POV. I'm not entirely happy with it though, even if Peter is so much fun to write. :/ It's mostly just fluff, with Peter waking up and falling asleep way more than I would like. However, he's just gotten back from death's door, and I know from the times I've been really sick all I want to do or can seem to do is sleep. So, even though it's basically filler, I hope you all like it!**

 **Once again, if there's something you wish to see added to the story, drop me a note and tell me. I will do my best to incorporate it into the story. Thank you all for the continued support and encouragement. Each comment brightens my day. God bless!**

 **Oops: One more thing, and then I'll get one with the story. :D Tenses and I have an ongoing battle for dominance in regards to my writing. I still have not found a reliable enough assassin to get rid of them for me… (If any of you know of one, I will gladly take contact information ;D) I do multiple read-throughs of each chapter I post, but inevitably I miss one or two mistakes. Please forgive any you find, but if they are atrocious, I gladly accept any and all constructive criticism and/or critiques!**

 ** _All4Aslan:_** **Thank you! Here's the next chapter for you. Hope you enjoy!**

 ** _TheOpenDoor07_** **: I'm glad that my explanation cleared things up. No worries at all; I enjoy clearing up any confusion my writing may have caused. :P**

 **I'm so glad you like the idea. And yes, indeed, it very much mirrors our own situations today. :( By God's grace, this story will live up to your expectations.**

 **The explanation as to why the Pevensies are split up is actually being explored in the sister-story to this one:** ** _King and Lionheart._** **Valiant and I haven't totally gotten around to explaining everything about it yet, but we're getting there. I won't be explaining why they're in different families in this story, so if you want an explanation, you'll have to read that story. ;)**

 **Thank you very much for the encouraging words!**

 ** _Chickencomes1st_** **: I still smile every time I read your username. It really is awesome. Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad you're feeling so bad for Peter. This chapter is in his POV. Not quite as angsty as it has been, we're in the calm before the storm. ;) I hope you enjoy it!**

 ** _CooperGirlHH:_** **Thank you for your kind words. And yes indeed, poor Peter and Edmund. Unfortunately, the angst isn't going away anytime soon.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned it, we would have gotten a book about what happened to Susan after the Accident in The Last Battle. But since we don't; logically, I don't own it. Just playing in Lewis's (and** ** _Valiant's_** **) sandboxes. :D**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

My return to consciousness is welcomed by the return of the pain I had been in before my … collapse? I frown, trying to figure out what had happened to me. The last thing I remember is coming home from work and going up to Edmund's and my room to take a quick nap before Mum came home.

"Peter?" Something warm and soothing brushes the hair from off my forehead. "Peter, are you awake?"

It's mum. The hope – and what sounded like tears - in her voice confuses me. I turn my head into her touch, searching for the strength to open my eyes. My eyelids feel as if they each weigh a ton. I'm confused about the weakness that has a hold on my body. Sure, I had felt bad when I got home, but it hadn't been _this_ bad.

"Peter, honey, if you can hear me, please open your eyes."

There's desperation in Mum's tone now. I can't leave it there – I never have been able to ignore it when my mum's feeling upset. Everything in me wants to fix it. Unfortunately, all too often, there's nothing I can do to fix it. But this time I can.

It takes a lot longer than I would have liked, but eventually I lift my eyelids enough to be able to see what is going on around me. There's nothing in front of me but the wall and the side table I share with Edmund. One of his books is perched precariously on one corner, and a bowl and mug occupy the rest of the available space.

"That's it, Peter!" Despite the enthusiasm in Mum's voice, she's still keeping her voice low. "I'm right here, Sweetheart."

I tilt my head down so I can see more towards the middle of my bed. I'm just in time to see Mum wipe a few tears from her eyes. She smiles at me when she notices me looking her way.

"Are… you–'' It's hard to talk. The words stick in my throat, and before I can even get the second one out, I'm thrown into a coughing fit.

Mum immediately jumps up and lifts me into her arms. One hand grabs the cup sitting on the side table, and she brings it to my lips.

"Small sips, Peter. You're all right." She whispers in my ear, and I follow her instructions.

The water feels so good as it slips down my throat. It calms the coughing and sooths the fire that that action has kindled in my throat. Mum takes the cup away before I've had too much water, placing the cup back on the side table. I try to move my hand – to grab the cup to continue drinking – but it does nothing more but twitch slightly where it lays on the bed.

"I know that you want more, Sweetheart. But you haven't had very much to drink for a while. Once your stomach has settled a bit, you can have some more."

Mum reaches up and starts to comb my hair. I lean into her touch, relishing the comfort it gives me. It has been a while since we've done this. Most of the time it is Edmund who is on the receiving end of her comfort and care. Not because Mum loves me less, but because I rarely get sick and when I do either I push through it to continue working or she cannot spare the time from work to sit with me.

"What… what happened?" Even with the effects of the water I had just drunk, my voice is still incredibly harsh. But I need to know. I had to have been horribly sick for Mum to have taken time off to sit with me.

"You've been ill. You had a… a cold a few days ago." Mum's voice hitches a little. "It took a bad turn, but you're better now." She presses a kiss to my forehead. "Praise Aslan." She murmurs under her breath.

"Where's Ed?"

"He's at school. He'll be back later. He'll be very happy to see you getting better."

We stay that way for a while longer. I feel my eyes growing heavier and heavier as each second passes, and I lean further into Mum's arms. It's so nice to stay like that, to feel her arms around me and know that I don't have to worry or carry the burden of being her partner for this short time. That I can relax and be the child I was forced to leave behind at too young an age.

It comes to an end far too soon for my liking. Mum places a final kiss on my forehead and eases out from behind me. She slips me further down in the bed and pulls the covers up to my chin.

"You rest some more; you want to be awake when your brother gets home. I have some work to get done downstairs. I'll come and check on you in a little bit. Call if you need anything."

I nod slightly, curling into a more comfortable position. "Love you, Mum."

Her hand runs through my hair, "I love you too, my Lionheart. Rest."

I slip into sleep to the sound of her steps exiting the room.

~~~~ Line Break ~~~~

"Come on, Peter. Mum said you've been sleeping all day."

It's to those words that I wake next. I blink my eyes open to see Edmund's face inches from my own. It breaks into the biggest grin I have ever see him wear when our gazes meet.

"Get out of my face." I growl lifting my hand to push his forehead. My voice is still hoarse, but it's stronger than it had been earlier with Mum. "Your breath smells rancid. What have you been eating?"

Edmund moves back. I didn't think his smile could get any wider than it had been, but I am wrong. "I had to get some things at the market. I got a slice of Ms. Jill's cheese."

I grimace, "I don't know how you can stand that stuff." I'm about to say more, but a coughing fit stops me.

Edmund's expression drops immediately. He scurries to pick up the mug from the side table and place it to my lips.

"You're all right. Just take small sips. You're okay." There's slight panic in Edmund's voice as I take a few sips.

"Thanks." I whisper as soon as I get my breath back.

"Are you all right? Do you need anything else?" he asks setting the cup back on the table.

"No. I'm okay. Thanks for the help."

"At least you're finally giving me an opportunity to help you for a change." Edmund grins. "I've been feeling a bit useless around here what with you and Mum doing all of the work."

The words are said in a teasing tone, but the look in Ed's eyes reveal just how close to home they hit for him.

I reach out and take his hand, glad that my limbs seem to be obeying me this time around. "You're not useless, Ed. Don't ever think that. You keep me and Mum going. You bring so much joy into our lives. We wouldn't be us without you."

Ed grins eases a bit, but there's still shadows hidden deep within his eyes. I rub my thumb along his hand, seeking to give him more comfort. However, it catches and skips across his skin. I frown. Looking down at it, I'm amazed to see how chapped and red it's become. There are deep splits across the back of his hand and his fingers are white from dry skin.

"Ed, what happened to your hand?"

He blushes, pulling his hand from mine and ducking his head, "Nothing, Pete. They're just really dry this year. I've been putting the lotion you got me on them. They look worse than they are. I promise."

I purse my lips, not believing him. Ed knows I'll be able to read any lies in his eyes, and he'd kept his head ducked the entire time he was talking. Once he's finished though, he raises his head once more.

I take a closer look, searching for any other signs that he is lying to me. There are dark bags sitting under his eyes. His eyes themselves are bloodshot with a weariness he has never born sitting deep within them. His skin is paler than normal, and I can't tell, but he looks like he's lost some weight.

"Ed, are _you_ all right? You're not getting sick, are you?"

 _Oh, Aslan, please tell me I haven't gotten him sick. Please protect him this year. Let him not fall ill because of me._

"Nah. I've never been better. Aslan's kept me safe so far. And anyways, if you think I look bad, you should see yourself. You haven't had a bath in over a week! You definitely won't get any looks from Lillian if this look becomes permanent."

Now it's my turn to blush. Lillian is a girl that was in my class in school. She works in the mines along with me now, and I greatly enjoy her company. Nothing has come of our relationship yet, but Edmund still takes great delight in teasing me about any possibilities.

"Shut up, Ed. You're just jealous because no girl has paid you any attention yet."

Edmund raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "I'm quite fine with that thank you very much. I've seen what happens to you any time Lillian even looks in your direction. I don't need to be all twitter patted; I like my brain cells intact. I will leave the wooing all to you."

I roll my eyes and try to stifle a yawn. I have been sleeping all day. There should be no reason I'm as tired as I am. However, as each second passes, I'm finding it harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

Edmund seems to realize this. "You should get some more rest, Peter. Mum's gonna bring dinner up for you soon, but you have enough time for another nap."

"I've been napping all day." I grumble. "I shouldn't need any more sleep."

Edmund's eyes darken in a way I never wish to see again, "You've been sick, Pete. Take some of your own advice and listen to your body? Rest. It's the only way you're going to get better."

I wrinkle my nose as my own words to Edmund are tossed back at me. I've forgotten how many times I had given him that same advice over the years.

"I will, Ed. I promise. I'll be up and about soon. Just you wait and see."

"I'll hold you to that." Ed leans up and kisses my forehead. "Love you, Peter. I'll see you when you wake up, okay?"

I nod, eyes already closing. I hope I'll have more strength next time I wake. I've left Mum and Edmund without help for far too long. I need to get better soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: Hello everyone! Here is the next chapter. Things are starting to heat up for poor Edmund. I've been getting what are effectively death glares from Peter because of all I have planned for our boys. I hope you enjoy. :D**

 **A/n 2: One quick note for those of you reading** ** _King and Lionheart_** **. Both Val and I are dealing with some pretty hefty Real Life issues at the moment. We have not forgotten about that story; we've just had to place it on a backburner for the moment while we try to regain equilibrium. As soon as we can, we will publish the next chapter, I promise.**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

 ** _Chickencomes1st_** **: I'm so happy that you decided to read it! Thank you for your kind words! They mean a lot to both Val and me. Aren't they just? I love them both so much and dear Lucy and Susan of course. ;)**

 **Yes, he finds it a pity too, believe me. I love it when Peter's being overprotective as well. This story will focus more on Edmund being the protector though, so I hope that doesn't disappoint you too much!**

 **Oh, I'm glad you like Peter and Lilian! She showed up when Edmund mentioned her, but I am very glad that he did. I have a few one-shots planned that are completely devoted to fleshing out her character and what her and Peter's relationship looks like.**

 **Same! Coffee keeps me sane some days.**

 **God bless!**

 ** _TheOpenDoor07_** **: No problem! I enjoy it. :D I know. That always bugged me, especially since moms are usually very important to their kids. I've really enjoyed writing her, and I'm glad that you like her moments.**

 **I hope you like this next chapter. God bless!**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't own it… rats.**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

I told Peter I'm not getting sick – and that is the truth. What I hadn't told Peter, and what I would never tell Peter if I have anything to say about it, is that I am weary. My very bones ache with exhaustion. It is getting harder to get up in the mornings, and a few times I have accidentally found myself dozing in class. Thankfully, I haven't been caught yet, but if things don't change, it is just a matter of time. I don't know how Peter deals with it. He never seems to run out of energy.

He's been taking the medication for three days now. He woke on the second day, and Mum and I thought that maybe things would only get better after that. However, Peter's recovery is really slow. He spent all of the third day sleeping, waking only just enough to swallow the broths Mum made for him before slipping back to la-la land. Mum says it's a good thing, that it's his body's way of conserving energy so he can fight the bug. I'm not too sure though. I don't think I'll ever be able to see Peter and illness the same way. I'm used to illness in me – in the fight that comes every winter, in the fear that this year I will not have enough energy to keep my lungs working. I'm not used to dealing with it in Peter. And that scares me, but Mum's words put me at ease enough to state that the worse seems to be behind us at dinner that night.

I shouldn't have.

I don't believe in fate – or a "balance requirement to the universe" as is taught to us in schools. However, I'm beginning to wonder exactly what it is that Aslan has in store for us, because everything that can go wrong, is going wrong.

The next bump in the road starts the evening of the fourth night since we got Peter's medicine. I walk downstairs to see Mum sitting at the dining room table with her head in her hands.

"Mum, are you all right?" I go over and put a hand on her shoulder. That's when I see the money bag in front of her. "Do we have enough?"

She raises her head from her hands, sniffing and straightening her shoulders. "We're all right, Edmund. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Mum, I'm almost 14. I'm not a baby. Please, let me help."

"We are all right, Edmund. Please, don't worry. That's my job." She reaches up and cups my cheek. "I'm your mother. It's my job to worry and take care of you. It's not your job to worry about me." She bundles the money bag up and slips it into her apron pocket. "And there's nothing to worry about. Go get washed up for dinner."

That night, instead of slipping downstairs to the laundry room immediately, I kneel beside the bed. Even though Peter's getting better, Mum is still making me sleep with her. The money bag is in its usual place, and I pull it out. It's still horribly limp, but it's fuller than it had been when we first bought Peter's medicine.

I wait until I'm downstairs to pour the contents out into my hand. The light from the moon glints off the coins, casting reflections all along the wall. It doesn't take me long to count it up. Dread creeps over me when I finish. We will have enough to pay the taxes next week – praise Aslan. However, it is going to take all the money that Mum and I will be able to bring in this week to get the complete amount. That will leave no funds in the house with which to buy food for a week. Even with the monthly allotment we will receive from the tesserae Peter took a few months ago, it will not be enough to see us through. Not with Peter needing to eat as much as he can to get his strength back.

I swallow deeply, trying desperately to banish the fear that is choking me. I put the money back into the bag and tie the mouth shut.

"Oh, Aslan. What are we going to do?" I can barely voice the question. Despair wells up in my heart. "What can I do? How do I help my family now?"

Almost all the doors are closed to me. Unless it is a family business – such as the Pevensies' pharmacy or the Lune's bakery – children under 16 are not hired for work outside of the mines. With my lungs, both Mum and Peter swear stepping foot inside them will kill me. I can't hunt on my own, too many things can go wrong. And I _swore_ I would not take a tesserae. But if I don't do something then it won't matter.

My anxiety builds as I think of all the obligations we have coming up. There's the taxes – but the rent on the house is also due soon, next week I think. And Mum's going to need more soap for the laundry soon. Winter's setting in. With Peter's illness having necessitated us using some of our stockpile, we will have to start buying fuel much earlier in the year than we normally do. There is no way we will be able to meet all of those needs and still have funds left over to buy food.

I swallow hard. How do Mum and Peter do it? How do they live with the burden of having to take care of all our needs? How does Peter come home with a smile on his face and even sometime a "just because" gift in his pocket for Mum or me?

"Aslan, please. Show me how to help. Guide my steps. Help me ease their burden and not add to it."

That prayer plays on loop throughout my work that evening. It is still on my lips as I climb the stairs, replace the moneybag, and slip back into bed besides Mum. It is the last thing I remember thinking and the first thought on my mind the next morning.

~~~~ Line Break ~~~~

"Edmund? Edmund Leonidas."

I am startled from my thoughts by someone calling my name. Glancing around the schoolyard, I see Mr. Frank, Peter's boss from the mines, standing 30 feet from me. I furrow my brow as I walk over to him.

"Hello, Mr. Frank. Is everything alright?"

"No, Edmund. It's not. I've come to find out about your brother. How is he?"

"He's getting better." I answer slowly. When Peter had first fallen ill, Mum had gone to see Mr. Frank and explained what was going on. He had assured Mum he would cover for Peter, but that was back when we thought he would be well after 2 days of rest. To my knowledge, he had not come to talk to Mum about the fact that Peter has still not come back to work. "He's still really tired. But Mum's hoping that he'll be up and around by the end of next week."

Mr. Frank winces, and my heart clenches. I know Peter's exceeded the allotted "sick days" given to miners by at least a week. I'm not sure exactly how many days they are given. Peter rarely takes a sick day, and so he never comes close to the allotment.

"Your brother's going to have to be up before that, Edmund. He's been away from work for too long. By all rights, I should have reported him almost 2 weeks ago."

My heart plummets in my chest. _Report him._ Reported means no longer able to work. Reported means Peacekeepers and the woods. Reported means Peter will be taken from us.

"No! You can't!" I clutch Mr. Frank's arm. "Please. He'll be better – he is getting better. He'll still be able to work. _Please._ "

 _Aslan, please. Protect Peter. Don't let him get taken. Please!_

Mr. Frank sighs deeply. "I don't want to, Edmund. But the only reason I've been able to put it off this long is because a few of the other workers have been pulling extra weight to make it look like Peter's still at the mines. We can't keep it up forever. Inspections are at the beginning of next week." His eyes are full of tears and his shoulders slump as if the weight of the world is on them. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. I can't – I won't – risk the lives of the other workers just to save Peter. He wouldn't want that either. The most I can give you is till the end of this week. Peter must come back to work Monday, or I will have to report him."

Of course Peter wouldn't want that. The self-sacrificing idiot that he is, he'd kill himself before putting others in danger. But I can't lose him! I won't.

 _Aslan, what do I do? Help me!_

Mr. Frank is turning away. Tears run down my cheeks. There's no way Peter will be ready for work by Monday. A sudden idea flashes through my head. It's reckless and idiotic, and if Peter ever knew I was thinking about doing it, he wouldn't talk to me for a week. Mum will be upset, too, but I hope that she at least will understand.

"Mr. Frank, wait! Please, wait!"

He turns back to me, "Yes?"

"What if someone took Peter's place? A substitute just until he is better and can come back to work? Would that work? Could you not report him if that happened?"

Mr. Frank rubs a hand down his face, "It might. The Capitol doesn't care who does the work as long as it gets done. It's the Inspectors that would be the problem. Whom did you have in mind?"

I take a deep breath, "Me. I can come in after school and stay late to fill in Peter's quota. And I can work all day Saturdays."

"I don't know, Edmund. You're pretty small. I don't think –''

"I can, Sir! I know I look small, but I'm stronger than I look. I promise. Please, let me save my brother. At least give me a chance."

Mr. Frank is silent for a few minutes. He just stands there, looking at me. I struggle to keep myself from fidgeting.

Finally, he nods slowly, "All right, Edmund. We'll give it a try. It will be dangerous though. I won't be able to give you any special privileges."

"I know, Sir. I don't care. What do I need to do?"

"What time do you normally get off school?"

"3:30."

"All right. After school, come down to the mine. I'll be waiting for you at the entrance. Can you start today?"

I bit my lip. Mum's expecting me at home. She'll be worried if I don't show up. But… I can't just say no. Not with Peter's life on the line. So, I nod, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Follow me."


	5. Chapter 5

I stumble home that night covered in soot and dust. My mouth, throat, and lungs feel clogged with the stuff. The phlegm I cough up is black with it. My muscles burn from the long hours spent hunched over in the bowels of the earth. My heart is light, however, for I know that through my actions I am keeping my brother safe.

I stop at the well nearest our house and do my best to wash away the grim of the mines. Mum will be worried enough as it is without me walking in with the entire mine coming in with me. After scrubbing for five minutes, I head home. It's getting harder and harder to hold my eyes open, and I can barely pick my feet up. After closing the front door behind me, I lean against it. It feels so good to relax and simply soak in the feeling of "home."

"Where have you been?"

I open my eyes to see Mum getting up from the dining room table.

"I have been worried sick." She continues. She walks over to me and crosses her arms. Her eyes narrow, and suddenly she reaches up and rubs a thumb across my forehead. "What is all over your face?"

I bit my lip and look down at the floor. On the walk home, I had been planning how to explain this to her. But now that the time has come to actually explain, everything I had planned flies out of my head.

"Answer me."

I'm not normally a weepy person. _Peter_ says I'm more emotional than any boy should be, but it's not normal for me to just start crying. However, the long day coupled with my exhaustion and now Mum's accusatory stare is too much. Tears spring to my eyes and course down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to scare you. There wasn't time for me to come home and tell you. I had to leave as soon as he had talked to me. I –''My babbling is stopped by my body throwing itself into yet another coughing fit. I cover my mouth with my hands. My ribs ache from the force of each expulsion.

Immediately, Mum springs into action. Her hands are gentle as she guides me to the table and pushes me into a chair. She rubs my back as I fight to regain control of my body. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the coughing slows down, and I am able to draw a full breath.

I pull my hands away from my face to find them covered in black gunk.

Mum's face pales when she sees it. She doesn't say anything though – simply gets up and grabs the washrag from our sink.

"Edmund, what is this?" She whispers. She takes one of my hands in hers and wipes it clean with long smooth strokes. "Where have you been?"

"The mines." I whisper. I keep my gaze on my hands. I can't bear to see the betrayal that will sit in her eyes.

"What were you doing there?" Mum's tone is hard again, and I curl tighter around myself. "You aren't working there – are you? I told you, you are not to go anywhere near there. Why did you disobey me? Do you want to hurt me and your brother?"

"I didn't have a choice!" I shout. I know I shouldn't have. I couldn't sit there, though, and let her think that I had purposefully disobeyed her. I lift my eye to look into hers. They were filled with tears, disappointment, and fear.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't have a choice." I repeat. "I had to go." Tears spring to my eyes once more as I remember the hopelessness I had felt when Mr. Frank came to talk to me. "Mr. Frank came to talk to me after school. He said Peter's been gone from work for too long. He – he was going to report him, Mum! He said if Peter couldn't come to work by Monday, he'd have to report him to the Peacekeepers. I couldn't let that happen. You know what they'd do to him!"

At my explanation, Mum pales. She covers her mouth with one hand, and her other squeezes mine.

"I – I asked him if – if he'd accept a substitute just until Peter's better." I continue explaining. "He agreed." I smile, trying to look proud, but know I'm failing miserably when my mouth shakes. "I'm…I'm working after school and on Saturdays."

What I don't tell her is that Mr. Frank had had said that if this doesn't work, he'll have to report Peter. There's no need to. It won't happen. I won't let it.

"Oh, Edmund." Mum whispers. She draws me into her arms. "My precious boy. My wonderful Raven."

I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight. I lay my head on her shoulder, allowing myself to take comfort from her presence. "I'm sorry, Mum. I don't want to hurt you. I couldn't think of anything else I could do."

"Shhh, Edmund." She kisses my forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for. You did the right thing. I'm sorry you were put into that position. Bernard should have come and talked to me. I will go talk to him in the morning. You won't be going back into those death pits."

I look up to see her eyes flashing with determination. "Mum, no. You can't. Mr. Frank and I already made an agreement. And you can't take my place." My throat burns, and I turn my head as I begin to cough once more.

Mum helps me through that fit as well, and when it's done, I slump against her once more.

"It's our job to look after you. Dad always said that we were to protect you. And you won't be able to take Peter's place anyway. There's an inspection coming up, and they check the worker lists. They'll know something's up if you're there, and not a boy. I'll be okay. It's only until Peter's better."

Mum doesn't say anything, but I can feel her tears dropping onto my neck.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart feels like it's being crushed inside my chest. I _never_ wanted to hurt Mum. She does so much – sacrifices so much to make sure Peter and I are kept safe. Dad always stressed how we – he, Peter, and me – needed to do as much as possible to make her life easier. And he always led by example.

When he died, Peter took on his role. And I've tried my best to fill that role now that Peter's sick. But it's too big and my form too small. I'm not Dad, nor am I Peter. I am me, and me isn't enough. I just pray that Aslan will strengthen me so that I don't make more of a mess of this than I have already.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! I am SOOOO sorry for how long this update has taken. I've been really busy with RL and school recently and haven't had much time to write. I hope that this chapter is well worth the wait. I sure enjoyed writing it in and around my other duties. We get to meet Lillian in this chapter. :)**

 ** _Awilliamsbbc.98:_** **Thanks for all of your kind words! I'm glad that you think Mrs. Pevensie was well written; I didn't care for how her part was handle in both the books and the movie. I enjoy writing her parts, even though they are usually the most feels-intense. I hope you like this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own it. Though I do own Lillian, so I'm happy.**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

"All right, Peter." Mum's tone is soothing as she helps me to sit up. "We're going to take it slowly."

I nod, willing to do anything if it means I can get out of this bed. It's been 6 days since I first woke up. I'm still horribly weak, but I'm not used to sitting still. One more day of the same four walls would have driven me crazy. Downstairs won't be much more exciting, but it will be _different_ and different is the important thing.

"All right." Mum takes a deep breath. "You ready?"

"Yes." I slowly twist until my feet are resting on the floor next to my bed.

Mum steps back, keeping both of my hands firmly grasped in her own. I take my own deep breath. Then, slowly – so slowly – I push myself to my feet. My legs are shaking so much, I'm surprised I don't fall, but I manage to keep my feet.

"There you go!" Mum encourages. I grin.

She lets go, but only to slip my arm across her shoulders. Her other arm circles my waist, "Lean your weight on me. You just worry about putting one foot in front of the other."

"Yes, Ma'am." I quip, and she playfully pinches my side.

I originally plan on ignoring her words. After two steps, though, all thoughts of false bravado flee. I find myself practically collapsed onto Mum, struggling just to lift one foot so I can take the next step. Mum's grip is tight against my waist, stabilizing me when I stumble.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. My cheeks are hot, and I'm sure they're bright red as well. I have never been so helpless as I am now. It eats at me. I'm supposed to support Mum, not need support.

"Don't you dare apologize, Peter Alexander Leonidas. You have nothing to apologize for. You are doing amazing."

We pause for a moment at the top of the stairs. They're too narrow for us to go down side by side, but I don't have the energy necessary to navigate them on my own. We eventually settle for Mum going first, walking backwards so she can still support me as I follow. I worry the entire time that I'm going to lose my balance and send both of us tumbling down the stairs. Aslan protects us, though, and we make it to the first floor without incident.

"There." Mum huffs as she settles me onto the couch. She's breathing hard, but her eyes are glowing with happiness.

"Thanks, Mum."

Sunlight shines through the window at my right. I close my eyes, relishing the feeling it leaves on my skin. Cold air drifts through the chinks in the window and walls, but before I can begin to feel cold, Mum's placed a blanket over me. I smile up at her once more as she smooths my hair off of my forehead.

"I have some work to finish. Will you be all right? Your brother should be home soon."

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"All right. Stay off your feet. You're not strong enough to be moving around yet."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She drops a kiss onto my forehead and then enters the back room. It takes just a few moments for me to slip into a light doze. The warmth from the blanket, coupled with the soothing quality of the sunlight lulls me deeper and deeper. I'm still dimly aware of what is going on around me, but for the first time in what seems like forever, I'm able to relax.

An unknown amount of time later, I'm woken by the front door slamming open. I sit up quickly, staring around the room. My heartrate slows when I notice Edmund coming in the front door.

"Wait right here." He called back outside the door. "I'll see if he's up to visitors."

"If you were any louder, you'd beat a heard of turtles in volume." I call over to him. My voice is still weak, though it's getting stronger and stronger as each day passes.

"Peter! You're downstairs!" Ed drops his bag by the door and – without bothering to close the door behind him – rushes to my side. "How're you feeling? Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine, Ed. I just got down a little while ago. Feeling much better now that I'm out of that room. Thought I was going to go stir crazy."

He grinned, "Now maybe you'll be a little more lenient when I tell you the same thing after my lungs act up for the third time this winter."

I reach out and ruffle his hair, "Not a chance, short-stuff. Dealing with a cold is much different than dealing with lung issues."

Ed's eyes darken for an instant, but then they're back to their usual joyful glow. "Whatever, Peter. Anyway, think you're up for a visitor? There's someone outside who's really anxious to see you."

"Sure!" I am up for anything if it'll help me relieve my boredom. "Who is it?"

"Be patient. Just let me call them in." Ed moves back to the front door. "He's up, and excited to see you. Come on in!" He calls to whomever is outside. Then he steps aside, so they can enter the house before him.

I grin when I see who it is and my heart leaps in my chest, "Lillian!" I push myself up, so that I'm leaning against the arm of the couch. I haven't seen Lillian for what feels like weeks.

A smile lights up her face as she rushes to my side. "Peter! How are you doing? Are you okay?" She kneels down next to me, and grabs my hand in her own. "Edmund said you've been doing better. Has he been lying?"

I squeeze her hand, "No, he's not been lying. I'm doing much better. I should be back to work soon."

What I just said suddenly registers, and horror floods my system. _Work!_ I've not been to work in over a week.

Panic begins to take over as I struggle to figure out how to make this work – how Mum's made this work for the time I've been ill. We're given 4 sick days per year, so my absence hasn't been too horrible. But it's still a large absence, and Mum depends on my wages to make ends meet. I have to get up tomorrow – I have to get back to work. Winter is almost upon us and that means taxes and rent and fuel and extra food to ensure Edmund has enough so he can fight the illnesses he always contracts thanks to his weak lungs.

How could I have let myself get sick? And then to forget all about my duties? To let myself relax and enjoy just being home? I swallow when I think of what my father would say, especially when he never would have allowed something like a measly cold to keep him from taking care of us.

"Peter!"

I jerk at the harsh cry of my name. Lillian is shaking my shoulders. Her eyes are wide but firm. Edmund looks ready to run for help, and he's biting his lower lip.

"Are you all right?" Lillian asks.

I look quickly at Ed. I need to talk to Lillian about work. I can't do it in front of Ed though. Even though he's probably thought about this by now, I don't want to bring it up in front of him, giving credence to any possible worries he may have. He doesn't need that stress. Instead, I nod.

"Good." Lillian sits back a little so she's less in my personal space. Edmund too relaxes, sliding into a more comfortable standing position behind Lillian.

"I thought I was going to have to smack you to get you out of your own head – again." She continues. Her lips quirk upwards, and her eyes sparkle.

I return the ghost of a grin at the reminder of her favorite way to pull me out of my thoughts. Work in the mines is monotonous, and I usually disappear into my thoughts, trying to remember everything that needs to happen, everything that I need to fix or get to make sure Mum and Ed are getting what they need. Lillian is usually the one to notice when I get into those moods and takes great delight in pulling me out of them before I "delve too deep" to use her words.

"You would hit a convalescent, Lia?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I would hit you. You are no convalescent." She answers straight-faced. There's a pinched look around her eyes that confuses me though. Before I can call her on it, Edmund sniffs.

"Well, I'm going to leave you two lovebirds to yack it up. If you need me, I'll be in the back helping Mum. Lillian, don't let Peter move? Despite what he says, he still needs his rest."

"We're **not** –" I begin, but Lillian interrupts me.

"I won't, Ed. I promise."

Ed leans over and drops a kiss onto my forehead, "Listen to her, you big lug? Mum and I won't be able to carry your fat self up the stairs if you do too much and pass out on us. Mum might even ban Lillian from coming to see you again if that happens. And she would be just heartbroken if that happened."

I shove him away from me with a laugh, "Get on with you. I'll behave. Just make sure you don't do too much either; you might be smaller than you should be, but Mum will still have trouble getting you upstairs too."

Edmund laughs and goes to collect his book bag, "Have fun with your girlfriend!" He quips as he makes for the backdoor.

"We're just friends!" I shoot back.

"Right…" Edmund winks at Lillian, who groans. Then he's entered the back room, closing the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: Hello everyone! I am SOOO sorry for how long it's taken me to update this story. November and December were crazy busy in real life for me, and then I was dealing with a pretty big mental block when it came to this story so I put it on the back burner for a while so I could focus on other things. Thank you to anyone still reading this story, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart for how late this is! I will try to be better about updating.**

 **This chapter is just a little bit more fluff between Lillian and Peter. Next chapter will be a little bit more fluff between Peter and Edmund; then the angst starts back up again and doesn't stop until the end of the book. I hope you all enjoy!**

 ** _Chickencomes1st:_** **Thanks! I'm so glad that you like Lillian. I don't usually like OCs either, for exactly the same reasons. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. God bless!**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

"I'm sorry about him." Peter says as the door clicks close behind Edmund. "His teasing has gotten really bad the past few days."

"It's all right." I answer. "Remember, I've got brothers as well. I get how they act."

I don't mention that the fact that Edmund's teasing fills me with joy. He had been so… still during the time Peter hovered between life and death. Almost as if the life was draining from him at the same time Peter's was. He had had none of his usually spark about him. He'd show up on time to work at the mines and was always one of the last to leave. On Saturdays, even though I rose with the sun, he always arrived before I did. He'd simply go through the motions, with barely a hint of _Edmund_ about him.

Now that Peter is back, though, _Edmund_ has come back. He still works way too hard at the mines, doing everything he can to stay under the Overseers' watch. However, the spark has come back into his eyes and the bounce into his step. He no longer looks haunted by a weight that he could not shoulder and would not allow the rest of us to aid in bearing.

Helen, Edmund, and I have all agreed that we will not talk of that dark time with Peter. He still thinks – I believe – that he has only been sick for a few days. And we all want to keep it that way. If he knew what his family had had to do while he was sick – if he knew what Edmund has gone through – the guilt would eat him alive.

I shake myself out of such morbid thoughts. He'll never know. We'll all make sure of that.

"How are you doing, Peter, truly? And no lying." I ask. He always puts on a brave face in front of his family, and in front of me if I'm honest, but I'm hoping that this time he'll at least be a little bit honest.

He sighs, "I'm all right, Lia. Still weak," He makes a slight motion to the couch with his hand, "but getting stronger each day. I should be back to work soon."

I tense at the mention of work, knowing what is coming.

Peter looks into my eyes, fear and determination battling for dominance in their depths, "Has Frank said anything about me being absent? He hasn't spoken to Mum has he? Can you talk to him for me; let him know what's going on? I know I'm already over the allotted sick days, but if he just gives me even one more day –"

"Peter, whoa, Peter, it's okay." I put my hand over his mouth. "It's okay." I repeat more slowly. "It's all been worked out. Me and a few of the others have been doing a bit extra. You take all the time you need to get better. If you try and do too much too soon, you'll make yourself worse. Frank knows what's going on; he's fine with it. So are the rest of us. There's no need to rush."

"But we have that inspection happening." Peter presses, pushing himself higher up on the couch. "I have to be there for that; the Peacekeepers will know somethings up if I'm not there."

I lick my lips, not wanting to lie to Peter, but not entirely sure what to say either. "The inspection happened two days ago." I start hesitantly. "Something was worked out; you don't have to stress. The Peacekeepers have no clue you weren't at work. So there is NO reason for you to try and get to work before you are ready. Understand? If you try, I'll knock you out myself and drag you back here."

I mean my threat. I'm not about to stand by and watch my best friend work himself back to the grave. I'm not about to allow him to put his family back through that trauma. It would not be right of him to do so, even though he doesn't remember doing it the first time. I think Peter understands that for he purses his lips, but nods anyway.

"How did I end up with such a bossy best friend anyway?"

I smile, "It's a talent. You just draw us to you. Honestly? You ask for it with your stubbornness and self-sacrificing. It takes your mum, Ed, and me all working together to keep you from just self-imploding from incomplete, irrational, or hotheaded thinking."

"I am NOT that bad." He protests.

"You tried to take out 4 boys twice your size when we were 13."

"They pushed Lewis into the mud!"

"And instead of getting a teacher like any of the rest of us would have done, you decided to leap onto the back of the biggest one. See: hotheaded thinking."

"Okay. That is one instance, and not a very good example at that. If I hadn't jumped that kid, they would have continued to hurt Lewis. By the time any teachers would have come, it would have been too late."

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the greatest example." I admit. "But the point still stands. There are tons of other examples. You trying to get back to work without being fully well is one of them." I raised one of my eyebrows. "I'm as pushy and bossy as I need to be. If you want me to stop, you need to cut back on your recklessness. And that includes trying to do too much too soon."

Peter raises his hands in mock defense, "All right all right, I get the picture."

"Good. Your mom will be glad to hear that."

Peter groans and rolls his head back on the arm rest, "The two of you are so stubborn. Given the opportunity, you two could single handedly defeat Snow."

I stick my tongue out at him, and he does the same.

"So, what's been going while I've been sick?" He asks, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch. "Anything exciting?"

I shrug, "Nothing much. Michael had his birthday. Da made a deal with the carpenter to make him a toy car. He was so happy – he hasn't stopped playing with it. He's been building cities with Drake's old blocks and some pieces of wood and coal from the tinderbox and driving the car through them. Mum was also able to get some apples and pears from the market and made a sauce for after dinner. Umm… Oh! Aleise and Quinn had their wedding!"

"Really?" Peter quirks his head. "I thought they were planning on waiting for the spring."

I nod, "Well, that was the original plan. But they decided they couldn't wait. They got married last weekend. Just a small ceremony with their families – nothing big. Though, Quinn has somehow managed to get it fixed so that they can work together in the mines now. They've been absolutely besotted with each other."

Peter smiles, "Good. Glad they finally tied the knot. It's taken them long enough."

"Isn't that the truth. We've had to suffer through listening to Quinn talk about her long enough. At least now that they're married and working together, he has someone else to talk to."

Peter laughs, "I bet the rest of the crew are relieved."

"Very. We've had a small bet going about who would crack first – for the longest time it was between Koleth and Nadir. End of shift each day they looked that much closer to strangling Quinn. Thankfully, no one did. That would have been a bit difficult to explain to the Peacekeepers… and to Aleise."

Peter chuckles once more, "Sounds like I haven't missed too much."

"Nah." I reassure him. "It's District 12. Nothing happens here. I have missed our walks though. Get better soon so we can get a few more in before winter sets in, all right?"

"Okay." Peter agrees, winking. "But only because you asked so nicely."

"Oh really? And what would you have done had I not asked nicely?"

"Hmmm… probably just stayed here. Let you lot take care of my work in the mines. It's actually really comfortable here during the day."

"Sure, it is. You'd be bored within 2 days with nothing to do, Peter. It's not the best job in existence, but at least the work in the mines keeps you busy."

Peter taps the side of his nose, "Got me there."

He reaches over and takes my hand, "I've missed you, Lia. Thanks so much for dropping by."

"As if you could keep me away." I squeeze his hand. "You're my best friend, Peter Leonidas. I've missed you too."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback for the last chapter. I'm so happy you all seem to love Lillian so much. I know I said that there would be Peter and Edmund fluff this chapter. However, as I sat down to write the only thing that seemed to flow the way I wanted was to put the chapter in Mrs. Leonidas's POV. So that's what I went with. So, instead of brother feels (though of course there is a little bit of that), you all get mother-son feels instead. I hope you all are not disappointed.**

 **Oh, one more thing. In this chapter, Peter and Edmund share the same bed. The reason for this is two-fold. One is the Leonidas's life situation. They don't have the funds to have a bed for each of the boys. The second reason is medical. They don't have the funds necessary to heat the house as well as Edmund needs. Therefore, Peter and Edmund share a bed so they can share blankets and body heat. There is nothing untoward about it; just brothers being brothers.**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own it. :D Though I wish I did.**

"Mum?"

"Yes, Peter?" I ask as I finish settling the second blanket on top of him.

It has been a long time since I've tucked him into bed – too long in my opinion. He will be an adult in less than one year, and has been acting as one for much longer than that, but he is still my baby boy. Though I have hated the last few weeks, hated the fear that I would lose him to the sickness that held him in its grasp, they have given me the opportunity to comfort him and "baby" him, as he would say, in a way he normally refuses.

"Is Ed all right?" Peter asks. He is leaning heavily against his pillow, which in turn is leaning against the wall. Between the trip downstairs, Lillian's visit, dinner, and then the trip upstairs, his energy sources have been depleted. But it was good for him. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he glows in a way he has not since before he fell sick.

I sit down on the bed next to him and sigh. Trust Peter to pick up on the one thing neither Edmund nor I wish him to. He was always too perceptive, even as a small boy.

In all honesty, Edmund is not doing well and that is starting to scare me. He has been working in the mines for three days now and probably will be for, at the minimum, another week. It is taking its toll.

He no longer comes home covered in soot as he did the first day. He washes it off at the well outside before coming home, and I have a feeling he will be extra careful now that Peter will be downstairs more often. The coughing has gotten worse though. It comes in bouts, and he does his best to hide them from Peter, but he is not always successful. A few have left him gasping and wheezing for breath for almost a half-hour after the attack has subsided.

Thankfully, there are a few herbs and flowers that grow out in the woods that have helped him with his asthma in the past, so I make sure to have a cup of tea prepared from them ready for when he comes home. It helps, however slightly, but I wish there was more I could do. I hate seeing either one of my children in pain. I am their mother; it is my job to protect and shelter them.

My job. I have not been able to do a very good job _at_ my job. No matter how much work I take in, I have always needed Peter's wages to make up the difference. And even sometimes that is not enough. Each time he has had to go to the Peacekeepers to barter his _life_ for food for us, my heart wells with shame. And now Edmund is the one having to put himself in harm's way, to subject himself to the terrible conditions of the mines just to protect his brother and put food on the table. And now he is paying the price of that necessity, having to pay for my inadequacy.

"Mum?" Peter calls me again, and I realize I have been staring at my hands for a few moments.

I look up, but am prevented from answering by the sound of harsh coughing coming from downstairs. Peter and I wait in silence until Ed's coughing fit ends 5 minutes later.

"Mum, he's not all right, is he?" Peter asks softly. "What's wrong? Is he getting sick again? He's been coughing so much at night."

I hold up a hand to stifle the flow of words exiting Peter's mouth, "Peter, settle. Edmund… Edmund is as well as he can be. This winter has started rough. His lungs are having a difficult time."

Peter clenches his jaw, "None of the herbs are helping?"

I shake my head, "They only offer minimal help. He will be okay, though, Peter, just as he has been for the last 14 years. We will get him through."

 _Aslan help us get him through. Let the mines not kill my baby boy. Let me not have lied to Peter._

"He's losing weight, Mum." Peter protests. "He won't eat at dinner. He says he's not hungry."

I've noticed the same thing. Edmund usually cleans his plate fairly quickly at meals, always has, even when not feeling that great. He knows how important it is for him to keep his energy reserves up as much as he can. Battling the cold and his lungs each winter takes a lot out of him.

But lately he has taken to eating less and less. He has been taking care of dishing the portions for meals while I finish up some more work, and I've noticed he has been putting more on Peter's and my plates than on his. The few times I've confronted him about it, he has given me the same excuses he is giving Peter.

"I know." I answer softly. "I have talked to him about it. I need you not to worry, Peter." I reach out and brush some hair from his forehead. "Now's the time for you to concentrate on you. None of us want you to get sick again. Let me be Mum, okay?"

Peter sighs, but nods, "Okay, Mum. I'll try."

I kiss his forehead, "Thank you, my Lionheart." Tears spring to my eyes as I look into his eyes, "You have so much of your father in you." I whisper.

Peter reaches out and squeezes my hand, "I miss him."

I shift so I can hug him close, "I know. He would be so proud of the man you have become."

We sit for a few minutes, Peter tucked under my chin. The silence is interrupted twice more by coughing from Edmund; however, neither dissolves into fits. Eventually, Peter pulls away and I help him settle back.

"What did you and Lillian talk about? You two were together for a long time this afternoon."

Peter blushes and ducks his head, "Nothing much. She was just telling me what's been going on since I've been sick."

"Is that all?" I ask raising an eyebrow. "Why the red cheeks then?"

"Well…" Peter bites his lip. "Maybe that wasn't all. I – I asked her to be my girl."

The news brings a smile to my lips, "Peter! Oh, I'm so happy. What did she say?"

"She said yes." Peter looks up and grins so widely his face is almost split in two. "It's nothing binding, Mum, so don't go planning our wedding yet. _Please_ don't go planning anything." He repeats opening his eyes wide. "We're _just_ getting to know each other a bit better than we would if we had stayed as just friends or coworkers."

"I promise I won't say anything, Peter." The news fills me with happiness. Peter has always wished to marry, and I could think of no one better for him than Lillian. But I will honor his wishes and allow him to take this at his own pace. "But I am very happy. Lillian is one of the sweetest girls I know. If you two do decide to get married, you will be very happy together."

Peter twists his fingers together, "I hope so. I want what you and Dad had."

I ruffle his hair, "Then you will have it. Aslan knows the desires of your heart. Now, it is time for you to go to sleep. You've had a long day and need to regain your strength."

"Yes, Mum." Peter slides lower down in the bed and I pull the covers up to his chin. "Do you truly like Lia? You aren't just saying that?"

"No, Peter. I truly like Lia. She is a sweet girl. Now, sleep. I'll send Edmund up in a few minutes."

"Mhm." Peter closes his eyes. "Love you, Mum."

"I love you too, my heart." I lean over and kiss his forehead one final time and then head back downstairs.

Edmund is sitting at the dining room table, hunched over his school books. I pause just before the bottom of the stairs to watch him. My sweet Raven.

It's no wonder Peter is asking about his health. He looks awful. Even just sitting there, he appears sickly and exhausted. He had been excited when he first came home – bubbly with joy at seeing Peter downstairs for the first time in almost a week. However, that burst faded right before dinner, leaving him barely able to keep his eyes open. Even now, he is fighting to stay awake long enough to finish his homework.

I purse my lips as I walk down the last few steps. "Edmund."

He starts, jerking his head up so he is looking at me. "Yes, Mum?"

"How much do you have left?"

"Um…" he looks down at his books. "5 problems."

"You need to get some sleep, Edmund. It's late."

"I know." He answers, covering his mouth as he begins coughing once more. This time the attack is much longer than the ones Peter and I heard. I rush to prepare some tea as well as an herbal tincture for him to breath to help.

It takes 15 minutes for Edmund to settle his lungs. At the end of the episode, he slumps against me, absolutely spent. I hold him close, supporting him as he focuses solely on breathing.

My heart clenches as I tighten my hold on him. Edmund was born almost a month early, causing both his lung problems and his low weight. Our life situation did not help anything. Though we have always had food, we have never had enough for any of us to build up suitable fat resources. That has hit Edmund the hardest; he's always been shorter and leaner than normal.

Now, though, he is absolutely _thin_. Between the hard labor in the mines and the minimal food he has been eating, he has lost almost all the weight he had. I can count his ribs underneath my hand.

"You need to eat, Edmund. You are too thin." I whisper, reaching up to comb through his hair.

"I'm all right, Mum." Edmund answers. "I've just not been hungry. Please, don't worry."

"I have to worry, that's my job. I'm the mum, remember?"

"Yeah, you and Peter – you've been telling me that since before I can remember." His tone is light, but he won't look me in the eyes and his mouth is downturned.

I lift his chin gently so we are looking each other in the eyes, "We worry because we care about you, Raven. Not because we do not trust you. We only have one Edmund; we'd like to keep him around."

The corner of his mouth quirks, but the shadows do not leave his eyes. "I've got to finish my work, Mum." He tries to get out of my arms, but I simply tighten my grip.

"Oh no. You are going to bed. You need sleep more than you need to finish this."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes, "I can't. If I fall behind, there's no way I will be able to make up the work. I have to be in the mines right after school. And I'll have tomorrow's homework to do after work. I'm okay… I'll _be_ okay."

He reaches out to pull his textbook to him. I put my hand over the page and push it back.

"No, Edmund. You can finish it in the morning. You are going to bed now. You will get done quicker with a fresh mind. You've been doing too much; tonight, you need to take care of you. Come on."

Ignoring his continued protests, I raise him to his feet and escort him upstairs. Peter is fast asleep in their bed. Since waking up, he has slept so deeply that nothing wakes him up. It is a good thing, for I do not wish to disturb his sleep.

I turn down the covers on Edmund's side of the bed and he slides into the bed once he removes his shoes. Pulling them up to his chin, I kiss his forehead.

"I love you, my little Raven. Sleep well."

"Love you, Mum." Edmund answers snuggling deeper into the covers, seeking their warmth. He covers his mouth once more as yet another coughing fit overtakes him.

Peter grunts, a frown marring his forehead. He rolls over and throws an arm across Edmund's shoulders, pulling his brother closer. Edmund shakes his head as the coughing fit ends, sinking into Peter's embrace. I leave then, knowing that, for tonight at least, they are safe and warm where I can watch them.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n: Hello Everyone! I hope you all are doing well. Thanks to everyone who left reviews on the last chapter. I get a huge smile each time I see that someone has left one. I'm so happy that you all are enjoying my work.**

 **This is the second to last chapter. :( We've moved on from the fluff of the last few chapters into the beginning (or continuation?) of the angst. Poor Ed is not having a good time and won't be for the forseeable future.**

 **I hope you all like this chapter. God bless!**

 ** _Chickencomes1st:_** **Yes! There is a lot of potential for fluff because of that. :P You can thank JustValiant for that addition to this universe. It was all her idea to give Ed asthma. I'm glad you are enjoying this chapter. Thank you so much for your kind words! :D**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Which, the way my Plot Bunnies operate is probably a good thing. Though I don't think anything I (or any) fanfiction writer could do could be worse than the Crash in The Final Battle.**

 **~~~~ Line Break ~~~~**

My body is so sore I can barely move. Despite that fact, I feel lighter than I have in a long time. I clutch my pay closer to my chest, anxious to get home as soon as possible and give it to Mum. I can't wait to see her face.

It's not much money – it never is. But it's _something,_ and it will give us enough to pay the rent and taxes. We'll even have a little left over to see us through food-wise until my next paycheck.

The best part is that _I_ earned this money. I have finally been able to contribute _something_ to our family rather than simply taking from it.

My respect for Peter has grown tremendously over the past week. I have always known working in the mines is not easy. There were too many accidents and cave-ins to ever _not_ have some idea of the dangers. However, Peter's own reactions towards his work had made it so I never fully understood what it is he faces each day. Now I do.

The work is hard, grueling, and unrewarding. My back aches from the hunched-over position I am forced to hold while in the bowels of the earth. My mouth tastes of coal, and I no longer breath easily even outside in the clear air. Despite these difficulties, though, there is beauty to find down below. While not precious enough to warrant digging up, there are crystals in some areas of the mines that glint and glow like starlight when hit by the beams of our flashlights. Better even than that is the camaraderie to be found in those also working in the mines.

Everyone seems to know who Peter is and hounds me for information about his well-being. They welcomed me when I first began working and have taken care of me. The leader of Peter's work group, especially, has gone out of his way to make me as comfortable as possible. And the other members, Peter's crew members, have also done their parts.

They aren't able to do much. The Overseers don't pay _much_ attention to what occurs that far underground, but they have spies and tell-tales amidst the crews. However, many of the others, Lia and Killiam and Nadir especially, will pull a bit more than their fair share to give me breaks every now and then. If a message or report has to be run up to the surface, they'll make sure I am the one sent. I hate to think of how bad I would be if they weren't taking care of me in such ways.

I detour to the well near our house to clean up before heading home. I enter as quietly as possible. Peter has, praise Aslan, been spending more and more time downstairs. Even though he isn't sleeping as often as he did when he first woke up, he still falls asleep quickly and randomly. I don't want to disturb him if he getting rest.

As it turns out, I don't need to worry. The first floor is deserted. My anxiety flares when I realize this. Quiet has meant trouble for too long. Quiet has meant Mum spending hours at Peter's bedside, doing all she can to keep him tied to us. I've come to hate quiet.

I try to squash the voice that says something must be wrong. Peter's still taking his medicine – Mum's been slipping it into his water at breakfast. He's almost done with it, and he's regained quite a bit of his strength. He couldn't have relapsed.

Biting my lower lip, I walk to the door leading to Mum's workspace. Crying coming from inside stops me before I push the door open.

 _"Aslan… please."_

Mum.

Her words are broken and punctuated by shuddering breaths. My heart aches as I hear my mum break.

I've seen her worried before – with the life we live, there's no way I could have avoided seeing her worried. But she's never let it overwhelm her. She's always been so strong. She's always been the first to reassure me that we will be all right. That Aslan has us. If she is this affected, something horrible has to have happened.

" _I can't. There is_ nothing _else I can do. Please… I can't lose Peter and Edmund. Please."_

I can't bear listening any longer. I push the door open and rush in. Mum's kneeling next to the washtub, head buried in her hands. She looks so… beaten. My heart clenches.

"Mum what's wrong?" I rush to her side.

She recoils as if burned when I put my arm about her, "Edmund! What are you doing home?"

She wipes the tears from her eyes and cheeks and tries to smile.

I shake my head, grabbing her hand to halt her motions, "No, Mum, don't. Please. I heard you crying. I know something's wrong. Please, tell me. Are you hurt?" The thought sends more panic flooding my body. "You're not hurt are you?"

My gaze wanders around the room, searching for anything she could have hurt herself with. She couldn't have hurt herself. How long had she been here, alone, in pain? It had to have been bad for her to have been crying as hard as she had been.

Mum squeezes my hand, "I'm not hurt, Edmund. Breath." She reaches out and turns my head so I'm looking straight at her. Even though her eyes are puffed and red from crying, they are clear and pain-free. "I'm all right. Take a deep breath."

I follow her instructions. I hadn't realized that I had started hyperventilating when I thought she had hurt herself. My breathing hitches, and I choke on some saliva. It sends me into a coughing fit that lasts for a few minutes.

"Shhh, Ed." Mum guides me through it, holding me close and rubbing my back. "You're making yourself more ill. Settle. I'm fine. _We're_ fine. Deep breaths. That's it. Hold it – and let it go."

Once I regain control of my breathing, she loosens her grip, but doesn't let me go. "Better, Ed?"

"Yes. Sorry." I scan her once more. "You're sure you aren't hurt?"

Mum chuckles, "Yes, Raven. I'm not hurt."

"Then what happened? I _heard_ you. Something's happened."

Mum sighs, "The tax collector came today."

I frown, "We've been careful though. We had enough right?" We had to have had enough.

"Yes, but the taxes were raised."

"How much?" I ask hoarsely. We've been _so_ careful. Pinched and scrimped and made do to ensure that our funds would cover the taxes and the rent. We made sure of it; I have counted and computed many times during the last two weeks. I haven't seen Mum do the same, expect for that one night I caught her in the kitchen before I started working in the mines. I'm _sure_ that she did though.

"Enough." Mum sags, and the care and worry and fear she tried to hide when I first came in comes flooding back. "We only have enough for the rent, but only if that hasn't been raised as well."

I now understand why Mum had been crying and why her cry to Aslan had been so desperate. We _need_ that little bit extra to buy food. We have just enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, but that's it. We've used up the last of the meat that Peter and I gathered on our last hunting expedition. There's no way Mum will let me go out to get more – not by myself.

We still have Peter's tessera to draw from – but that just gives us enough food for one person. It's not much food even at that. I won't get more pay until next week; and Mum's pay won't be enough to buy anything at market for a few days either.

 _Aslan, what are we going to do? Help us please!_

Peter can't go without food. None of us truly can, but Peter least of all. He's still regaining his strength and has cleared his plate at each meal. Mum and I have both been giving him bits of our portions in order to give him more to eat; more to build his strength back up. What will happen to him now?

I purse my lips. There _is_ an option open to us. Well, open to me.

I can take a tessera. I can do it today. Townhall stays open late precisely for that reason – to allow those who have to work late in the mines to barter their lives away for food to keep their families alive. I can be there and back in less than an hour.

"We'll be okay, Mum." I whisper. My throat is tight at the thought of what I am about to do. "I'll go take a tessera. And I can get the allotment from Peter's as well. It'll be enough food to see us through until we can get funds."

"No!" Mum shouts. "No, Edmund. I forbid it. I'll think of something else."

I hate having to do this. I hate that life has forced us into this circumstance. She tries _so_ hard to protect Peter and me. It's not fair that she should have to deal with this heartache.

I force down my own nausea at the thought of what I am going to do. Mum doesn't need me breaking down now. She needs me to be strong.

"Mum, there _is_ nothing else. You're already working as hard as you can, and that's not going to help us for the next few days. Nothing we try or can do will." I take a deep breath. "This is the only way."

She pulls me close, tucking my head underneath her chin. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze just as tight.

"You shouldn't have to do this. _Aslan, it's not fair._ Edmund, it's killed me each time Peter's had to take one. How can I let you do the same?"

"It'll just be one, Mum." I whisper. "Just enough to get us by. I'll be fine. Others have their names so many more times. 4 slips of paper with _Edmund_ on them isn't going to make a difference."

"You can't know that."

No, I can't. There have been plenty of people whose names have been drawn even though they were only entered once. But the alternative – watching my mother and brother starve – is not to be considered.

"It'll be all right, Mum." I reassure her once more. "Aslan will watch out for me just like He always has."

She doesn't say anything, and we sit in silence for a few more minutes.

Finally, I start to pull away, "I have to go Mum, if I'm going to make it to the Hall before it closes."

Mum nods and lets me go. Tears sit in her eyes, and as I watch, two slip down her cheeks.

"Mum, please don't cry." I beg, wiping the tears away. " _Please_. I'm all right. We're all right. This isn't your fault. Peter and I are supposed to care for you. It's just my turn now. Please."

Mum sniffs and pulls me close, "My precious Raven. I'm so sorry you're having to do this. I'm sorry you have to live like this, that I'm not able to take care of you and your brother the way I should."

I shake my head, "Mum, don't apologize. It's not your fault; not in any way. _None_ of this is. Peter and I are _happy_. We wouldn't want to be anywhere else other than here with you. You _have_ taken care of us. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

I pull away and kiss her forehead, "I'll be back soon. I love you."

"I love you too, Edmund."

I stand up and head back out. Now that I'm not with Mum, I allow the fear to begin to creep back in. I have to measure my breathing so I don't begin hyperventilating once again. My hands are shaking, and I put them into the pockets of my jacket to hide that fact.

My pay from this last week is still clutched in my right hand. Little good it does me now. And I had been so proud of myself before.

I don't _want_ to break my promise to Peter. There's nothing else for me to do though. Bartering my life is the only way we can get food to see us through until next payday. Peter will understand... I hope.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everyone! We've come to the end of this fic! :( :( Wish I could say there's a happy ending, but those of you who have read** ** _King and Lionheart_** **know that it doesn't end well. So, I'll just put the tissue warning up right now. The ending of this chapter didn't turn out** ** _exactly_** **as I would like, but I'm still happy with it. Peter and Edmund on the other hand… not so much. Hugs for them will be greatly appreciated so they will continue to work with Valiant and me. ;)**

 **Thanks to all those who have favorited or followed this story. MASSIVE thank you's to those who took the time to leave reviews. Each one has filled me with such joy and confidence. And a thank you to those who simply read this story as well.**

 ** _Serena Edmunds:_** **Hey, don't feel bad about that. I do a lot of "just reading" myself. Thank you for your review. I'm glad that you think I'm doing a good job with this crossover. I hope you enjoy** ** _King and Lionhearted_** **. Valiant did such an amazing job creating this universe. I hope you like this last chapter.**

 **I hope this last chapter lives up to all of you guys' expectations. :D Enjoy… or enjoy as much as you are able.**

 **My sister helped with a few parts in this chapter (and with encouragement when I was ready to scrap the whole thing). Thanks, Sunny! Love you tons!**

 **Disclaimer: I haven't caught the White Stag yet, so my wish to own this has not come true, unfortunately. ;)**

~~~~ Line Break ~~~~

I pause outside the Justice Building to shore up my courage once more. Never has the building appeared more imposing than it does now. Even with the soft glow of electric lights shining out of the windows, the building's front is grim. It appears to frown down upon me, as if questioning my existence.

 _Aslan, give me courage. Help me through this please. Help us through this next week._

I walk slowly up the steps and enter the building. The heat of the building is stifling compared to the chill outside. I walk over to the front desk. An older gentleman is sitting behind it, frowning at the computer screen in front of him.

"Excuse me?" Even though I strive to keep my voice steady, it still comes out far weaker than I would like.

"Yes, what is it?" The man barks, not even looking up from his work.

"I –" The magnitude of what I am about to do hits me, and I stutter to a stop. How can I do this? I had promised Peter.

"Well?" The man asks again, finally looking up to level a glare at me.

I lick my lips. "Where do I go to get a tessera, please?"

The man rolls his eyes and sighs, "Through that hall," he points to the door to his right. "Second left and down the stairs. Then you take the passage to your left and take the third left. It'll be the second door on your right."

"Through that hall, second left, downstairs." I repeat. "Take the right passage."

"No!"

I flinch at the sudden exclamation and swallow wrong. My lungs spasm, spreading panic throughout my body as I begin coughing. Praise Aslan that it doesn't turn into a coughing _fit_ , and I stop after a minute. I glance at the Peacekeeper, sure that at any moment he's going to call someone to take me away. But he just glares at me.

"It's the left passage, you _dolt_ , left. Were you not listening?"

"Sorry." I duck my head. "Take the left passage, third left, and it'll be the second door to the right."

"Good." He turns back to his computer. "Better hurry. They'll be closing shop soon."

"Thank you." I say quietly.

The words feel like acid in my mouth. _Thank you_ for helping me and hundreds of other kids bet our lives away to keep our families alive. _Thank you_ for being gruff and uncaring while we struggle day-to-day just to make ends meet.

The basement of the building is damp and cool. Not as cold as outside, but enough to be uncomfortable. It's as if the Peacekeepers and those in charge wish to make this experience is dismal and as soul-killing as possible.

 _It's for Peter and Mum._ I remind myself as I take the final turn and pause before the door the guard had directed me to. I stand outside for a few minutes unsure whether I'm supposed to simply walk in or if I should knock. Peter never lets me come with him, so I have no idea what to expect.

Finally, I raise my hand and knock on the peeling wood of the door.

"Come in!"

The voice which beacons me in is not as gruff as that of the guard at the front desk, nor is it warm. It sounds bored.

I open the door and step inside the room. One bench sits along the wall to my left, though no one is sitting on it. A long counter stands at the back of the room with a door behind it leading into a small compartment lined with shelves. A middle-aged woman sits at a computer behind the counter. Her hair is pulled up into a tight bun, but her mouth is relaxed and her eyes are not angry like those of the Peacekeeper upstairs.

She looks up as I approach, her gaze saddening even as she smiles at me.

"Hello."

"Hello," I answer. I try to keep my voice steady and to stop my hands from shaking, but it is hard. Half of me is screaming at me to get out of that room, to run away back home and try and think of something else. But the other half – the bigger half – knows there _is_ nothing else. This is the only way to ensure that we make it through the next week.

"How can I help you. Are you here to pick up an allotment?"

I nod, "Yes, Ma'am. But, I'm also here to… to…" I can't. I can't speak the words I promised Peter I never would.

"You would like to take a tessera?" The lady supplies.

"Yes, Ma'am." I whisper.

Her gaze softens even further, "All right. I'll make this as easy as possible."

I lower my gaze to the counter top, blinking back tears. "Thank you."

"Can I have your full name please?"

"Edmund Leonidas." I wipe my hands down the sides of my pants, but it does not help the sweat that has gathered there.

A sharp intake of breath has me looking up in surprise. "Is everything alright?"

"Are you Peter's brother?" She asks, staring at me sharply.

Confused, I nod, "Yes, Ma'am. He's my older brother."

"Does Peter know you are here? He's made his thoughts very clear about you taking a tessera."

I swallow hard. _Oh Peter._ Even here, he has been watching out for me. _You great lummox._

"I know." I say quietly, ignoring the small voice in my head that reminds me of how _angry_ Peter will be when he finds out what I've done. "We don't have a choice though." I duck my head and shuffle my weight. The guilt from not being _enough_ still weighs heavily on me and will for a long time. "Things are hard this month." I take a deep breath and reach for the bravado that has kept me going since Peter fell ill. "Peter will understand."

The lady sighs, but nods, "All right, Dear." She reaches underneath the counter and hands me a thin slip of paper and a pen. "Write your name and age on that, and I'll get you sorted."

My hand shakes as I reach out to accept the items from her. _It's for Peter and Mum._ I remind myself as I sign my name and mark my age.

Is this how Peter feels each time he comes to do this? Does he have the same weight in his middle – the same lump in his throat?

 _Oh, Aslan, bless and protect Peter for all he's done for us._

I hand the paper back to the woman. She plugs the information into the computer before dropping the slip of paper into a bowl that is almost spilling over with similar slips. I swallow at the sight of how many people have come in before me.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

She gets up and enters the room behind her. After a minute, she's back with two largish sacks of flour in one arm and a jug of oil in the other. She sets them on the table and then glances at me.

"I've included Peter's allotment for this month as well. Will you be all right to carry these back by yourself?"

I eye the supplies. It'll be difficult, but I'll be able to get everything back. I nod. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll be fine. Is there anything else I need to do?"

She shakes her head, "That's everything."

I gather the flour into my arms and pick the oil up with my left hand, "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Take care of yourself, Edmund."

I snort softly to myself, but nod. I hurry out of the Justice Building, ducking my head as I pass the Peacekeeper at the front. A shiver runs through my body as I step back out into the cold evening air.

I hunch my shoulders as I head home, trying to conserve my body heat. Though the flour and oil should not be heavy, they sit like stones in my arms. Between the long hours in the mine, and my malnutrition, even lifting small weights has become a problem lately.

I can feel my lungs tightening with each step. Coughs force their way out of me, slowing my steps further. I bite back a curse. There's no way I will be able to sneak into the house if I'm coughing up a lung.

I pause for a few minutes down the street from our house. I still have to figure out how to get these supplies _into_ the house without Peter noticing. He was upstairs resting when I left. The best I can hope for is that he'll still be doing so when I arrive. It would be better for everyone involved if he doesn't figure out what I have done… what I _have been_ doing.

I ease the front door open as softly as I can. Peter doesn't seem to be downstairs, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Striding quickly over to the kitchen area, I set the parcels down on the table and ease out of my coat. I swallow a few coughs, aware that I'll bring Peter down on my head if I begin a coughing fit. There's _no_ way he'll stay upstairs if he hears me.

Unfortunately, my plan doesn't work as well as I would have liked. It's as I'm placing the second bag on the cabinet shelf that a coughing fit takes hold of me. I try to stifle it, burying my face in my arms, but it's not long before I hear the stairs creak behind me.

"Eddie? Are you all right?"

I freeze. _Peter._ Curse my lungs. I knew this would happen.

 _Aslan, help me know what to say!_

The rest of the stairs creak as Peter rushes over to me. His arms wrap around my back, supporting me as I continue coughing.

"Hey, it's all right. Calm down."

He pulls me so I am in a more upright position. "Hold on. Let me get you some tea. Slow your breathing down."

I listen to Peter put the kettle on the stove to heat some water. Soon, a mug of tea is pressed into my hands. The steam wafts over me and I breathe deeply, relishing the relief it gives me. Slowly, my coughing eases.

"There. Better?" Peter asks, wrapping an arm around me.

I nod, "Thanks, Pete."

"No worries. You're home late. What were you doing?"

His tones are teasing, and I look up to see his eyes twinkling. He bumps my shoulder with his own. "Catch up with Vilren and Drake?"

I smile thinly, "Something like that, Pete."

"Is Mum still working?" Peter pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

I nod, "Yeah. She's been really busy the last few days."

"Well, then. Guess it's up to you and me to get dinner made then, huh, Ed?"

He slips his arm off my shoulder and stands up quickly, pulling me after him. Though he's still weak and can't exert himself for long, for short stretches of time, he's almost gained all of his strength and energy back. "What should we make?"

He strides over to the cabinet I put the flour and oil into. I have to bite my tongue to keep from stopping him. No matter what I do, he's going to find the Capitol rations. He's going to ask questions, and I won't be able to lie.

The cabinet opens. Nothing happens for almost a half a minute. I count every second, each feeling like a lifetime. Peter doesn't turn his back – _eleven, twelve… thirty, thirty-one_. Time freezes just as his hands seemed to do so. I can see quite clearly how pale his knuckles are, holding onto the cabinet's chipped knob as if for his life. As if what he saw before him were a great ominous warning, and it clutches his heart.

"Edmund?"

Peter voice is hoarse. I flinch at the full use of my name.

"Edmund, look at me."

I don't want to. Facing Peter – facing the hurt I know will be in his face, the anger – is the last thing I want to do. But he's my brother.

I take a deep breath and look up. Peter's relinquished his grip on the cabinet and turned around. His face is white, but his eyes blaze with barely suppressed anger. "Where did all this come from?" He motions to the coarse sacks of flour and the jug of oil.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to take a step back. It's _Peter_. No matter how angry he is, he'd never hurt me.

"It's the tesserae allotment, Peter. Can't you see that? I figured I'd pick it up for you since you're still recovering." I smile, but it's tight around the edges. My hands are shaking again, so I tuck them into my pockets.

Peter takes a step closer, "I know what is in the allotment, _Edmund_. This is too much. What did you do? You took a tessera didn't you?"

"Peter, let me explain –" I hold up a hand to try and stop him before he starts, but he pays it no heed.

"Let you explain?" He sneers. "What is there to explain. You _broke_ your word, Edmund. You _promised_ you wouldn't take one. You _swore_."

"Yes, I know, Peter, but –"

"But _nothing_ , Edmund. Why did you do it? If we needed another tessera, I could have gone. I _would_ have gone. There was no need for you to do that. Was it to prove something?" He takes two steps closer, crowding into my personal space. "Is that it? You wanted to _prove_ yourself so badly that you broke your word?"

His hands are on my shoulders, and he's shaking me. I latch onto his wrists, trying to still my body so I can reply when his gaze visibly focuses on something on my forehead. He freezes so suddenly it's as if he's been turned to stone. A chill runs through my body.

 _Please, Aslan, I beg you. Let it not be what I think it is._

I hadn't spent as long at the well this evening as I usually do. I had been too excited to get home to give my pay to Mum. We both have grown so used to seeing small traces of soot and dust on my face and in my hair, that if I came home with some this evening, she must not have noticed.

Peter reaches out and grabs my face, tilting it so that it faces the light better. Usually such an action would be gentle, his fingers barely gracing my cheeks. His touch would be more an encouragement to allow him to do what he willed instead of this crushing pressure that demanded obedience. I force myself not to jerk away, not to race from his presence. It will do no good.

"What is this?"

His fingers rub a spot along my hair line. As he pulls his hand away, they come back black. My heart sinks.

Peter stares at it in disbelief. His jaw clenches a few times, throat convulsing as he swallows. His shoulders are tense.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is."

His gaze bores into mine, daring me to lie to him. There is only one place that produces such an element. There is only one place I have been forbidden to go.

"I didn't have a choice, Peter." I whisper. I hug my arms in front of me, hunching my shoulders. The room has grown several degrees colder. I wish for the warmth of my coat, but know that even if I had it, I will still feel the chill. It is not the chill of the elements, but of Peter's distain and fury.

"Of _course_ you have a choice, you liar!" He explodes. "Why did you do it? It wasn't bad enough that you had to threaten your life by taking a tessera, but you had to risk it in the mines as well? By _Aslan_ , Edmund, are you that _stupid?_ What you were trying to prove? That you could do it? That you could help? Haven't Mum and I pressed on you enough that we don't _want_ your help, that we can do it. That we'd much rather you safe and whole than anything else in the world? Do you not _care_? What would Mum think if she knew? Does our love mean _that_ little that at the smallest of opportunities you go and disregard _everything_ we have ever done for you? Do our sacrifices mean _nothing_ to you?"

"I did it for you!" I shout, taking a step forward.

I have been willing to take Peter's yelling. He is mad – justifiably so. I have broken my word to him, for just cause, but it is still a broken bond. But I cannot stand by and allow him to think that I did it to prove something, that I would be so ungrateful as to throw everything he and Mum have ever done for me back in their faces.

Peter's face goes blank for a moment, but I don't stop.

"I did it _all_ for you. You think I _wanted_ to spend hours in those mines, barely able to breath, struggling to hide my cough and the fact that I had difficulties completing the work from the Overseers? You think I _relished_ coming home hacking up a lung because of all the dust I breathed in, wanting to do nothing but collapse into bed, but not being able to because I still had homework to finish? You think I _desired_ doing **this** to my hands?" I hold them up so he can see the deep splits and raw skin that has accrued from helping Mum with the laundry and from accidents in the mines. "I did it all for you and for Mum, Peter."

My voice cracks; tears fill my eyes. "Of _course,_ I didn't want to. I **know** what you have sacrificed to keep me safe, to keep me healthy. _Never_ would I throw it in your face. Do you think that little of me?"

My tears and obvious distress don't have any effect on Peter. Anger still sits heavy in his gaze.

"Then why," He growls. "did you do it? There was _no_ need."

No need.

I scoff, "Have you heard **_nothing_** I've said!" I begin pacing, unable to stand still any longer. "Yes, there was a _need._ If I hadn't taken your place in the mines, the Peacekeepers would have been here almost a week ago, _dragging_ you out to the woods." I turn on him, poking him in the chest. "You were sick for weeks, Peter. You almost _died_."

The emotions from the days I had been kept away from him, from the countless hours I spent at his bedside, come sweeping back, shortening my voice. I go back to pacing, "Mum spent _hours_ at your bedside trying to help you get better, trying to keep you _here_. We had to get medicine from Aunt Evelyn*. If I hadn't stepped in, it would have been for naught. The Peacekeepers would have put a _bullet_ in your _brain_ , Peter, and there would have been _nothing_ I could have done to stop it."

Silence reigns for a few moments. Peter turns away from me, his shoulders so tight I can see the muscles bunching in his neck.

"And the tessera?" He asks without turning around. His voice is calm and even. That scares me more than if he had continued ranging at me. Peter is never calm – especially not when emotional. Peter should not be calm now.

"Why did you take that?" He asks again.

"It was necessary, Peter."

 _Please, Aslan, let him drop it._

"That's not an answer, Edmund. Why. Did. You. Take. A. Tessera? You _swore_ on Dad's grave that you wouldn't. Answer the question."

"I – I can't, Peter. I won't." I won't put that on him. He's Peter. The guilt would eat him from the inside out.

"Yes, Edmund, you _will_." His anger sharpens, and I can feel my soul wilting from the blaze of it.

I refuse to back down. Let him think of me what he will – I will not allow him to shoulder guilt that is not his to bear. He could not help his sickness, but if he knew what we did while he was ill, he will never forgive himself. I would rather he be angry at me for an eternity than for him to turn that anger inward towards himself.

"No, Peter, I _won't_. That is not your business. Think of me what you will. I took a tessera. I'm not sorry I did. If given the choice, I would make the same decision all over again."

We stare into each other's eyes for what feels like forever. The silence and anger are so thick in the room, you could almost cut it. Finally, Peter takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

"I am going to talk to Mum. You stay – here."

I open my mouth to object, but he shakes his head.

"No!" He shakes his finger in my face. "No, Edmund. _I'm_ talking. You don't _get_ to talk. You've _lost_ that right." He steps closer, his voice lowering. "You don't get to _explain_ or excuse away what you've done. You broke your word. That's all I need to know."

He steps back and begins to turn away, "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't want to _see_ you. You'll be sleeping with Mum tonight."

With those final words, he walks to the door leading to the back room, opens it, and disappears.

I fall to my knees as the door slams shut behind him. My heart hurts as if it has been pried from my chest, ripped into a thousand pieces, and then stuffed back in. Curling up, I cover my mouth with one hand to muffle the sounds of my cries.

 _I don't want to see you.._

 _Aslan,_ please _!_

Tears stream down my cheeks, but I pay them no heed as I cry out to the only One who can hear me now. I don't even know what to pray. Words will not come. Thoughts will not form.

All I can see if Peter's face – the disgust that had been present throughout the entire argument. All I can hear is the anger – the accusations.

 _You'll be sleeping with Mum tonight._

Peter and I have had spats in the past, but he's never said _that_ to me. He's never banished me from his side. The only times I have had to stay with Mum instead of in our room was when he's been sick.

But now he's built a barrier between us.

 _I did it for you, Peter. Everything I did was for you._

I have done my best to protect and provide for my family, but all I have succeeded in doing is tearing it apart.

 _Aslan, help us. Help Peter. Let this pass. Help him forgive me._ Please.

~~~~ Line Break ~~~~

*Given the relationship Val created in her epically sad, but wonderful one-shot _Letting Go and Holding On_ , there is some reconfiguring going on in regard to the names Peter and Edmund use for Susan and Lucy's parents. Calling Evelyn "Aunt Evelyn" is one of those changes. I'll be making changes in the near future to this story and my others to reflect this change. ( _Val_ , as per our PMs, if you don't care for this change I made, I will switch it back. :D)


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